


Fifty Five Feet and Wilbur's feelin sleepy

by Habpy_Flaat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dadza, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Is this allowed, It Gets Better, It’s found family your honor, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, They all need hugs, They cry, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot-centric, but I wish I had made it so they were, but he doesn’t go thru with it, next time - Freeform, okay pshfhd triggers are as follows, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, they r not actually a family, what if I?? Self projected onto cc’s, will delete if cc’s express discomfort at this type of work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Habpy_Flaat/pseuds/Habpy_Flaat
Summary: A bubbling ring filled the night air. Wilbur swallowed, desperately reigning in his emotions so that he could speak. He took a deep breath when he heard the line pick up.“Wilbur? What are you doing up this late?” Phil’s familiar voice filled the air and relief flooded his chest, but before Wilbur could manage a response another line clicked.“Helloo Phil, Wilbur, what’s up?” Tommy called through the phone. Wilbur bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. Another blip, “Techno!” The youngest shouted as yet another person joined what was supposed to be a private call.*********************Wilbur’s tired. He’s been tired a long time, and he can’t help but feel like he will always be tired.But now, sitting atop a bridge he’s ready to finally get some rest, all he has left to do is call someone he trusts to say goodbye.Sucks he called the sleepy bois group chat instead.***HEED THE TAGSLook at that stupid title too lmao. Oh well.
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 23
Kudos: 1017
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Fifty Five Feet and Wilbur's feelin sleepy

**Author's Note:**

> SPNSFNJFNI I wrote a book because I couldn't stop thinking about a bridge bjsfnj LNdsx mJFUw

At approximately 3:45 in the morning on November 23rd, Wilbur sat on a dark bridge his feet dangling over a fifty-five-foot fall. Below deep black water drifted near silently, only barely reflecting the night's sky back at him.  
The bridge was 55.8 feet tall, he knew this because he had googled it. He had also googled the survival rates of falling from such a height, which is why he knew that if he were to jump odds were that he could survive with minimal injuries if he landed right. 

However, he hadn’t come here to do it right. He had come to jump, spread his arms and hit the water flat, sink to the bottom, and stay there. 

Cold wind ravaged his shivering form forcefully, tearing through his hair sending it in and out of his eyes, and pushing his coat back and forth dangerously as if trying to drag him off the bridge. 

It was a strange sensation, he decided, the air was sharp and cold; unpleasant by all accounts, and yet he relished the feeling. His chapped lips, freezing fingertips, cheeks stiff with dried tear tracks and wretchedly cold from the biting wind, and the slight tremble of his hands. 

The uncomfortable sensations were grounding in a way, a reminder that he was still confined within his own body.  
He hadn’t left quite yet, he still had time left. 

He tried not to think of his family and friends. He didn’t want to imagine what they would say to him now. He couldn’t think of what they would do when he washed up on some shore to be discovered by some poor bastard who would have to call the police. 

If his body was discovered.

A part of him wondered what it would be like to get caught in the weeds at the bottom of the lake and stay there forever with bubbles of stale air and lost items.  
In that case, they would never know where he had gone. There would be no way to tell his family what he had done, they would wonder for the rest of their lives. 

No, he didn’t need to think about all of that, he had been pondering those scenarios almost constantly in the weeks up to now, he was tired of the ”what if”s. 

Instead, he imagined what it would be like in the river. To float on his back in the middle of the pool, staring into the sky.  
The noise of the world would be muffled by water, the only sounds to make an impact would be his own beating heart and rhythmic breaths.  
The stars littered throughout the sky weren’t the brightest but looking up he could imagine getting lost in them.  
Imagination could only take him so far though, he knew that when he entered the water it wouldn’t be that peaceful. 

It would be freezing cold, and there would be no star gazing. He would hit the surface as though it were concrete, and the impact would crush his chest. It would violently force the breath out of his lungs and as he sunk- if he weren’t already dead- he would try to suck in air, only to choke on the water which he stared at now.  
The weight of his soaked clothes and shoes would drag him like a rock to the muddy floor of the river, his muscles- aching from the fall and tense from the cold- wouldn’t be enough to swim back to the surface, much less the shore. 

He would die cold and alone in a river after throwing himself off a bridge-the name of which he hadn’t bothered to remember but the height of which was ingrained in his mind like it had been branded on the back of his hand. 

55.8 feet.  
17 meters. 

His throat tightened in fear. Fear of the pain that was sure to come. 

It had been hours since he had said a word. When he first arrived at the bridge, his chest had been cold and resolute.  
His knees were weak, and his hands shook, but he was certain of what he wanted to do. He had set his hands on the ledge and heaved himself up, biting his tongue at the vertigo which made his vision swim looking down at the drop.  
Carefully, he had pulled his phone and keys from his pocket setting them on the concrete beside him. 

But now, thinking back to the silence which he had been sitting in, he felt the need to scream.  
He had spent the last year- and even before that- fighting to live every single day.  
He had raged against the emptiness in his chest, and the muted emotions he walked around with. He had fought the waves of sadness lying in his bed every night. He lied to himself and to everyone around him to just be okay, to stop himself from doing this.

For all that he had tried though, he knew he had failed. This was the end, but he didn’t want to go quietly.  
He wanted to scream at the universe for letting him feel so hopeless. He was enraged and devastated all at the same time.  
In the flurry of emotions, a sob ripped from his throat, “Fuck.” he whispered, before screaming out to the river. “Fuck, Fuck, FUCK, FUCK- FUCK FUCK.”  
His hands held the sides of his head and he longed to call someone.  
He couldn’t do this without someone knowing, was that selfish? That he needed someone to care that he was about to die? Scrambling to grab his phone suddenly, he tried to think of who to call.  
Desperately he scrolled through his recent messages, he wouldn’t dare call his mom or dad they shouldn’t have to hear this.  
He passed familiar icons, ignoring them and the growing guilt in his chest. Who would know what to say? Who could he call at this time of night and be assured they would answer?  
Suddenly a familiar face had caught his eye, and before he could hesitate he clicked the chat and hit call.  
A bubbling ring filled the night air. Wilbur swallowed, desperately reigning in his emotions so that he could speak. He took a deep breath when he heard the line pick up.  
“Wilbur? What are you doing up this late?” Phil’s familiar voice filled the air and relief flooded his chest, but before Wilbur could manage a response another line clicked. 

“Helloo Phil, Wilbur, what’s up?” Tommy called through the phone. Wilbur bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. Another blip, “Techno!” The youngest shouted as yet another person joined what was supposed to be a private call.  
“Tommy, why are you awake, isn’t it like five in the morning four you?” Techno asked.

“Four actually, why are you calling me out? Wilbur and Phil are here too!” Tommy replied defensively. 

“Yeah, but they don’t have bedtimes, they’re adults.” Techno laughed. 

Phil spoke again “Ey, sorry to interrupt but what’s happened? Why are we calling?” 

“Wilbur started it.” 

The silence that followed the statement was crushing as they waited for him to speak. 

Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t here? That he had miss clicked in his sleep or something, they would hang up and he would-  
What would he do?  
Call someone else?  
Go home?

“Wilburrr?” Tommy shouted through the phone, startling the brunette. He cleared his throat,  
“Hey, guys!” He managed to say, though despite his best efforts his voice came out scratchy and hoarse.  
He shifted on the arm of the bridge, moving so his foot was tucked underneath him.  
“Wilbur, what’s up man?” Techno asked him.  
“I, uh,” Wilbur stumbled over an excuse for calling at four in the morning, “I- nothing really. I just figured I, I would call.” He finished, mentally slapping himself. 

“No offense Wil, but you sound like shit.” Techno said dryly, “And you’re a really bad liar. What happened?” 

“It’s nothing, I just, wanted to talk to you guys-” he spoke into the phone quietly, looking back out over the lake. 

He didn’t look down, but he didn’t need to. 

“Where are you?” He heard Phil ask and his heartfelt as though it had ruptured in his chest.  
“Yeah man, it sounds windy as shit, why are you outside at four in the morning?” Tommy asked with a small laugh. 

Wilburs brows furrowed and he couldn’t help but look down again. He could see his own dangling foot in his peripheral hovering over the solid black liquid. 

His eyes filled once more with tears and he bit his cheek to keep from making any noise. 

“Wilbur?” Phil called out, sounding more concerned.  
Taking a shaky breath in he desperately tried to calm himself. 

“I was going to kill myself.” 

Oh.  
Huh.  
That just left his mouth.  
That wasn’t the plan. 

The silence resonated from the phone before Phil spoke gently, “Wilbur are you safe now?”

Wilburs chest shook and he could hardly find the breath to whisper, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Where are you?” Phil asked him carefully.

“I’m on a bridge.” Wilbur admitted finally.

“Wilbur, please don’t do this.” Techno spoke up, his voice oddly strained.

“I didn’t mean to call you guys, I’m sorry.” Wilbur managed to rasp.

"Wilbur, if you only listen to me once in your life please listen to me now. Do not do this. I promise whatever's happened will get better." Phil pleaded, "I can be there by tomorrow, whatever you are going through I'll help." 

"Phil-" Wilbur began to argue, "you don't have to come all the out here. It's not getting better, I just- I just need to do this and be done." His breath shook and his cheeks were wet and freezing. Earlier he had almost enjoyed the cold, but talking to his friends he wished he had a thicker coat or a blanket of some sort. 

"I would much rather make the trip to help you than attend your funeral." 

"Will?" 

Tommy's voice was tiny. Higher pitched than usual and heart-wrenchingly scared, it was a tone Wilbur had never heard from his friend before. Tommy was like a little brother to him, the two had their bits but in the end, he wouldn't trade the blonde for anything . 

And he had made his brother sound like that.

In moments he had heaved his remaining leg over the wall, moving so his feet instead dangled over solid concrete.  
The lake behind him felt as though it were calling his name, but the flashing icons on his screen whispered otherwise.

Tommy was 16 years old, and he was not going to kill himself with a fucking kid on the phone. 

For all their jokes, Tommy was still a kid. Hell Techno was only a little over 21 himself.

He could hang up the phone and just throw himself off anyways, but that didn't seem much better.

What had even been the plan here? Call Phil, tell him he was going to kill himself, then hang up and die? Kind of a dick move in retrospect, but Wilbur breathed deeper regardless. 

Not tonight. 

"Hey, Toms." Wilbur huffed out curling over to stare at the ground. 

"I love you." Came from the device. 

"I love you too."

The night felt anticlimactic. He should have done it. He shouldn't have picked up his phone. He shouldn't have called them. He shouldn't have changed his mind. He shouldn't have held his phone close to his chest as he walked back to his car coaxed by Techno and Phil to at least get warm. He shouldn't have watched the sunrise outside his window while listening to Phil pack. He shouldn't have been around when at seven in the morning Tommy's mom entered his room to find her son awake and begun shouting before Tommy could mute himself. He shouldn't have been around to laugh at Tommy with Techno- so hard that Techno made an audible thump as he fell sideways out of his chair. He shouldn't be here at all. 

But he was. And after assuring his friends that he was okay enough to drive home and wait for Phil, he ended the call and made his way home. His apartment was spotless. He hadn't wanted to leave a mess behind for his family. It had taken all of his energy to clean the house after weeks of just lying in bed letting the garbage pile up, but it was clean now. 

Wilbur sat down heavily on the couch, pulling out his phone once more to text his friends that he was home before leaning back. Hours later Phil would arrive, knocking on the door, and when no response came using the spare key to step in. Finding Wilbur's sleeping form laid out on the cushion, he didn't bother waking him. Wandering around the house until he found Will's bedroom he snatched the comforter off of the bed and threw it over the sleeping brunette. 

The man was tired, so Phil let him sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a vent/outlet where I fantasized about a bridge near my house but I didn’t actually feel like killing Wilbur off at the end so here it is. I fr almost rewrote it as soon as it was done solely because I wanted to end w/ them all at Wilbur's place but couldn't think of a way that wasn't overly sappy to fly Techno in from America.  
> I'm losing it.  
> Expect more SBI fics soon, I've been thinking about doing a oneshot series just because I have lots of short story ideas but like no motivation. Comment ideas/ requests for that if y'all want :0 !! If not thats chill too.  
> Sorry if this is like super dramatic, SBI hurt/comfort machine go BBRRRRR.  
> Now if only I could actually write decent lmfaoo.
> 
> I really recommend writing stuff like this out if you enjoy writing and are struggling. Hella therapeutic and served as a banger distraction.  
> It’s not very good very messy, but for me it didn’t really need to be I was just kinda vibing lmao, but hopefully that’s okay for y’all!! 
> 
> Ty for reading!! Stay safe, and my direct messages are open if anyone needs to talk about anything!!  
> If a cc in featured in this fic mentions being uncomfortable with this sort of work please let me know and I will take it down!!  
> TY FOR READING COMMENTS AND KUDOS R COOL :)


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